


Leave a Love Divine

by IAmANonnieMouse



Series: Snake Eyes [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, MurderHusbands, Non-Graphic Violence, Referenced murder, Referenced violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: Don't leave a love divineIt's a water-tight excuse
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: Snake Eyes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/982113
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	Leave a Love Divine

Arthur counts his heartbeats— _one and two and three_ —as he walks, smells, sees. Home is home is home. Nothing’s different. Except him.

Their apartment is stale, dusty. Arthur heads for their closet, grabs his favorite boots. Double-knots the laces, then reaches out for one last thing.

“Homecoming so soon?” Eames asks lightly. 

Arthur doesn’t slice and dice him. Barely.

Eames smirks, eyes tracing patterns on Arthur’s skin. “My sly little snake. You know better.”

He does. But he can’t work without the proper tools.

Arthur tucks the bundle in his pocket and follows Eames out of the apartment, the city. America.

He wonders what Eames will steal next, when he’s tired of Arthur.

They go to the Netherlands. It isn’t fair.

It’s hard for Arthur to get back into work right away. New place, new language, new people. New laws. 

But while Arthur’s studying, stalking, scheming, Eames is greeting long-lost friends, speaking Dutch, eyeing paintings, and painting forgeries. He’s a con man. A liar. A creature with many faces, names, voices. 

The cop uniform had started to grate on him, in America. But here, now, he’s an artist, free spirit, drifter.

Arthur knows why Eames set him free.

One night, he finally gets to work. It’s soothing, relaxing. Familiar. One, two, three, one, two, three. The language is different, the people, the laws—but this doesn’t change. 

When it’s over— _snap, crackle, pop_ —he doesn’t bring anything back for Eames. When he gets home, Eames isn’t there to welcome him.

They’ve been in Amsterdam for three months. 

It isn’t fair.

In the dark, Eames acts like himself again—like Eames In America. He throws open the door and pins Arthur to the wall, murmurs sweet nothings like it’ll turn back time.

He smells of turpentine and old canvas, parchment and ink. Cologne that isn’t his.

“My viper in the nest,” Eames pants, breath hot and wet against Arthur’s skin. 

Arthur pushes Eames against the wall, onto the bed. He doesn’t give Eames his back. Eames doesn’t trace his eyes.

After, Arthur pretends not to notice Eames slipping out of bed and out the door. He counts his heartbeats— _one and two and three_ —then showers and puts on his favorite suit.

He has work to do.

Eames slams the paper onto the table, growls, “He was my friend.” 

Arthur pulls it closer. No pictures, shame. But Eames got the message anyway.

“Look at me!” Eames shouts.

He wasn’t Eames’ friend. He was Eames’ mark.

Arthur knows the difference now. But hindsight is 20/20.

Arthur picks up his knife, cuts his toast. Enjoys the weight of Eames’ wary gaze.

_“Arthur.”_

Arthur looks at him and counts his heartbeats. Hurry, hurry-then-slow, hurry. 

Eames’ eyes narrow, darken, flatten. He turns and leaves, slams the door behind him.

Arthur finishes his toast, then packs his things.

Eames tried to own him, steal him. But Arthur’s nobody’s but his own.

He leaves a knife on Eames’ pillow, then locks the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised [storm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things) an ultimate happy ending, so this series isn't ending here! No promises on when I'll do the next one, though...you know me.


End file.
